


hush (reprise)

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: BACK ON MY BULLSHIT, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, caleb is a sad burrito, just wanted to get this out there before the new episode, molly tries, mollymauk backstory theories, pre 2x8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 16:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: Later is now and Caleb Widogast needs a minute.





	hush (reprise)

**Author's Note:**

> Note there is no part one or anything that you missed--the title is a riff on the episode title from last week ("Hush").
> 
> I swear I'll write something else for CritRole fic one day, but today is not that day.

There’s a party brewing downstairs, and he’s usually all for that sort of thing.

But there’s one person that’s noticeably _absent_ from the party, and he can’t shake the urge to _just go and check_. Even with his limited knowledge of what kind of person Caleb Widogast was telling him that the man probably wanted to be left alone right now. Even when Nott, the one person who seemed to know him best, responded to the query of _where’s Caleb_ with _he said he needed to be alone and I should stay down here._ She didn’t seem happy about it, but she was staying, and that spoke volumes about how much Caleb must’ve wanted to be alone.

But the door to the room wasn’t locked, and the alcohol he’d rapidly consumed downstairs in an attempt to stave off a repeat of the previous night was making him a bold, nosy fucker, so despite all common sense telling him to just _go back downstairs, try those mushrooms, maybe, live a little_ , he opened the door and stepped inside.

There was only one light in the room, hovering above the bed, just bright enough to see by. Every blanket that had been on the bed was bundled up in one spot by the wall. He saw a hand poking out, holding open a book, and a face, still blank-eyed and indescribably tired. Molly stepped closer, again despite common sense telling him to let this one lie. “You’ll strain your eyes doing that,” Molly said softly.

Caleb didn’t look at him. He retreated a bit more into his blanket cocoon, though his hand stayed out, still holding the book open. Molly wasn’t even sure if the man was reading anymore. He might’ve just had it out for comfort. “Feeling better?” Molly added, wincing almost the second the question left his mouth. The sullen glare Caleb shot him was all the answer Molly needed. “Sorry, stupid question. Are you _going_ to be okay?” Molly’s leg started jiggling as his brain and mouth struggled to catch up to each other. He knew what he _wanted_ to say, but the old silver tongue had been tarnished by alcohol and his mind wanted to move on to the next sentence before he’d said the first. “It’s okay if you’re not. You can take your time being better. But one of us should know so we can make sure you get better.”

When there was no immediate response, Molly decided to try his luck. He walked (shuffled, really) to the bed and sat down, close to Caleb but not too close. “You can blink once for yes, twice for no,” he added. Molly made sure his tone was understanding, even with the alcohol, so Caleb wouldn’t take it as a joke.

He couldn’t tell if the effect was successful; Caleb didn’t seem offended, but he didn’t blink, either. Instead, he spoke. “I just,” he said, so quietly that the noise downstairs almost drowned him out, “need some rest. That’s all.”

Molly wasn’t sure if that was true. But he didn’t have anything to _dis_ prove it, so he decided to take Caleb at his word this time. If it wasn’t true today, he’d know for next time—and with the way their lives were going, there would be a _next time_. “You want some company?” he asked.

_No_ , was the answer he expected. “…yes…” was the answer he got, after a thoughtful, hesitant pause.

_All right, then. Better get comfortable._

He lay down on the bed, as far from Caleb as he could with the limited space. He noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye as Caleb pulled the book into his blanket bundle. He could feel the human’s eyes on him as he struggled to shrug off his boots and coat without actually getting back up. He only looked at Caleb when he, on a whim, draped the jacket over the top of Caleb’s bundle instead of hanging it over the bed frame. The human looked more present than he had in the mines, like his mind was really _there_. That was probably why he looked so damned _tired_.

“How did you live with it?” Caleb asked suddenly as Molly lay back down.

“Hmm?”

“That.” Molly was startled by the feeling of fingertips brushing against his wrist—the scars there, specifically. “How?”

Oh. What lie had he told about that lately? Molly couldn’t remember. He was sinking into the mattress, too tired to really think about it. Maybe it was the alcohol or the exhaustion that made him admit it, but the truth came tumbling out past his lips: “I don’t know. I don’t remember any of it.”

That was the first time he’d admitted it to…well, anyone. There was always a lie on his lips when it came to those scars and that distant, hazy past. He didn’t think anyone at the circus believed his lies, not for a second, but they went along with them. It wasn’t malice that kept him from telling the truth; it was the simple fact that people wouldn’t accept _I don’t remember_. They would poke and prod and dig. Molly was content with not remembering. Other people…weren’t.

It seemed that Caleb Widogast wasn’t _other people._ There was no more questioning, no more prodding. Instead, he heard Caleb laugh quietly. “Lucky you,” he said, words that Molly probably would’ve missed if it weren’t for their proximity.

Molly smiled slightly. Some people might not see it that way—sometimes he wasn’t sure _he_ saw it that way, as much as he’d learned to live with the blurred nothingness that occupied the space where his past should’ve been. But he could see why Caleb might think so.

“You should sleep,” Molly said, not protesting as Caleb’s fingers skimmed over the scars again. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Hmm.” Caleb’s hands moved from the scars to Molly’s horns, following the curve, the bumps, the divot carved in for his piercings. Molly moved his head closer to give the human better access and closed his eyes.

When his awareness returned, he was in the same space, but much more crowded. He could feel one hand still clutching of his horns, the shapeless lump that he could only assume was Caleb’s blanket wrapped form, and a smaller form squished between him and Caleb. That could only be Nott. Molly briefly wondered how the goblin was _breathing_ when she was trapped like that. Fjord was to Molly’s right, his back pressed against Molly’s. He couldn’t tell where any of the others were, though there was a distinctive weight and _something_ pressing down against Molly’s feet that said someone had just draped herself over the foot of the bed, everyone else’s legs be damned. Molly opened his eyes and found himself face to face with Caleb. He looked shockingly peaceful, for the state he’d been in last night. Perhaps the gods were being kind and granting him a dreamless sleep.

Nott’s form stirred and squirmed; when Molly glanced down, he saw her looking up at Caleb, her eyes still clouded with sleep but visibly worried all at once. Her eyes flashed like a cat’s at night as she looked from Caleb up to Molly. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked quietly.

Molly didn’t have an answer to that. He didn’t know Caleb well enough to make a guess—couldn’t begin to tell what might have set the man off, what demons he was wrestling with, how difficult they might be to defeat.

But that wasn’t what Nott wanted to hear.

“I think he will be. He might just need us to help him out.” Molly smiled. He was good at that. “We can do that, right?”

Nott nodded. She even smiled a little before burrowing back down in her place and falling back asleep. Molly waited until he was sure she’d drifted back off before letting his smile fade.

He wasn’t sure if his words were true. But gods, he hoped they were.

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of Molly just Straight Up Not Having a Backstory is based on [this post](http://freelancernatashashepard.tumblr.com/post/171267901362). I'm kind of into the concept, ngl.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at screechthemighty if you want to see the sheer quantity of CritRole blogging I've been doing lately.


End file.
